Anna Wintour, Karl Lagerfeld and Ingrid Sischy and the Gordon Parks Centennial Gala. (Leandro Justen/PatrickMcMullan.com)

We strolled into the Museum of Modern Art last Tuesday, for a gala honoring the centennial of the birth of the renowned photojournalist Gordon Parks, who passed away at 93 in 2006.

A quick nod to the door guy, and then promptly to the bar. Still off the sauce, we grabbed a seltzer and turned around to survey the scene, only to be immediately interrupted by a bronzed figure that had surveyed our less than macho bar order. “Did you just order a sparkling water, m’boy?” photographer Peter Beard asked us.

“Regrettably so,” we admitted to the man whose legendary life-long bender makes Bowie’s Thin White Duke phase look like rehab.

“Very sorry to hear that,” he said, extending a hand, the very one that he touched Cheryl Tiegs with so many years prior.

Mr. Beard spoke to us about the Gordon Parks Foundation. “I’ve been involved with it since before you were born, but it’s my wife Nejma who’s on the advisory board,” he replied proudly.

We noticed a wrinkle in the space-time continuum out of the corner of our eye. It was the monochromatic septuagenarian sun god of fashion: Karl Lagerfeld. He cut a swath through the crowd in his calculated yet effortless way that we’ve come to know and love, signaling that it was, in fact, time to sit down.

As we climbed the stairs to the second-floor atrium, it became clear that the seat-to-guest ratio was a bit off.  What should have been a subdued sit-down process quickly becomes a game of sudden-death musical chairs, but this wasn’t a pack of snotnose asthmatics in an elementary classroom. We were playing with Sarah Jessica Parker, Russell Simmons, and Anna Wintour.

Waiters and busboys frantically searched for extra chairs as more than a few tables, who’d paid big bucks for plates of filet, found themselves short a seat or two.

While extra chairs maintained a holding pattern above the heads of the rich and famous, we’d been cleared for landing. We sat next to James Murphy, of LCD Soundsystem, who was serving as the evening’s DJ. He admitted that he’s been a bit overworked lately, despite his retirement from the band.

“Originally we had no intention of filming the four-hour ‘last’ concert at Madison Square Garden, but at the eleventh hour we did. I’m still editing the thing together.”

We noted that the last concert was pseudo-religious evening for us, and Mr. Murphy hinted that was the idea behind the film, titled Shut Up and Play the Hits, which will be playing in theaters across the globe July 18, one night only.

“It’s for the people who didn’t get to experience it the way it was meant to be,” he said, seemingly still apologetic for the online ticket-sales debacle that caused the band to add three additional shows before the final performance last spring.

Anderson Cooper, son of Gloria Vanderbilt who was a long-time friend of Mr. Parks, took the stage and cued up the rest of the evening with a few anecdotes the man of the evening: “The guy made Shaft, people!” he exclaimed, leading into a heartwarming recounting of his interactions with the photographer as a young man.

Clive Davis, Annie Leibovitz, and John Legend followed, giving speeches laden with anecdotes, professional and personal, about Mr. Parks, whose body of work was expansive and will continue to touch many.

Joan Rivers and Anthony Bourdain. (Sylvain Gaboury/PatrickMcmullan.com)

In a season four episode of Mad Men, Don Draper won a CLIO Award for his work on the Glo-Coat campaign. Alcohol-fueled misbehavior and office tensions ensued. The Observer was eager to relive those moments at the Museum of Natural History, where the “Oscars of advertising” were given out last night.

Mingling in the museum’s entrance hall with a sea of young Peggys and Pete Campbells who were enjoying the effects of a 1.5 hour cocktail hour, The Observer moved artfully to avoid knocking over a Barosaurus. Happy to make the acquaintance of a delightful retiree, The Observer inquired about his brilliantly floral tie. The man had worn it to the Glyndebourne opera house, with its decidedly formal dress code, and received high praise, so he was confident it would pass muster in this crowd. He needn’t have thought twice about it as the attire present could be described as creative industry formal, a hearty mix of yuppie blazer/jean combos, architectural spectacles and a dearth of neckties.

As the open bar shut down guests regretfully relinquished their glasses and made their way through the Hall of Mammals for the ceremony. Spirits rose again when host Joan Rivers took the stage, apologizing for a case of laryngitis. “I was in Colombia and wouldn’t leave until the son of a bitch Secret Service agent gave me my $47,” she said, by way of explanation. A little throat tickle didn’t slow the down the already raspy voiced doyenne whose rapid-fire delivery was met with shock and awe. (Of the ubiquitous E*Trade ads she quipped, “Every time I see that baby, I go, ‘Where’s Casey Anthony when you need her?’”)

The attention-deficited in attendance were delighted by the fact that advertising celebrities value brevity much more than their Hollywood counterparts. Perhaps owing to the time limitations inherent in their medium, acceptance speeches were blessedly concise. Though mainstays like BBDO and Ogilvy and Mather were among the winners, the presentation certainly seemed updated since the Mad Men days, with prizes going to a campaign called “The Return of Dictator Ben Ali,” which was an effort to get out the vote in Tunisia, and Chipotle’s much-emailed “Back to the Start” video.

Photographer Annie Leibovitz and No Reservations host Anthony Bourdain were honored for their contributions to the creative fields. Leibovitz proved that these creative gifts include a wry sense of humor when presented with her statue, which was crystal unlike the others given during the evening. “I was actually hoping to get a gold one. I thought I’d melt it down,” she said, a playful allusion her much publicized cash flow woes.

Bourdain, who was introduced by fellow chef Gabrielle Hamilton, credited his introduction to the advertising world to his family’s record industry ties. “We were very, very aware of what you did in this industry. George Lois, Saul Bass, those were heroes in my house,” he recalled.

Upon the ceremony’s conclusion, those desiring yet another open bar made their way back across the museum where an after-party was getting underway in the Hall of Ocean Life. Ms. Rivers, the lady of the night, arrived in true style. Rolling up avec entourage in a golf cart, her chauffeur took an extra spin around, allowing her to check out the tropical forest exhibit. Those CLIO winners hoping their trophies would ensure them life-of-the-party status were likely disappointed, as the appearance of Ms. Rivers caused guests to respond with an enthusiasm befitting a tween pop star. Upon catching sight of her gown’s wide sequin-emblazoned sleeves, an endless stream of people jumped in line to take a picture with her.

Rivers has appeared in commercials for Geico, Go Daddy and Goodrich over the years. Is there a product she’d love to shill for? “Osteoporosis!” she told The Observer. “I’m the national chairwoman and they never use me!” Ms. Rivers’s voice was still bothering her as she strained to be heard over the loudly pulsating music and a loyal friend stepped in to play translator. The Observer told her how much we loved her appearance with 50 Cent in a new ad for his energy drink Street King. The spot has her encountering the rapper in a gym, imploring him to “hit” her with a shot of the beverage. Did you two bond on set? we asked. Unsurprisingly, it seems that 50 was as captivated by the comedienne as the rest of New York. “They’re bling buddies now!” the translator explained. “He calls her 50 Shekels.” CLIOs 2013, here they come.

Annie Leibovitz (Getty Images)

Annie Leibovitz’s place in the culture is secure as long as Vanity Fair is still being printed and doesn’t replace her glossy conceptualism with Terry Richardson’s stark sexscapes. But the lady caught a social consciousness from Susan Sontag, and now she’s giving back. For one, night, the Mayson Gallery is displaying Ms. Leibovitz’s photos in conjunction with those taken by children sponsored by the New York Foundling Organization—and the latter set of photos will be on sale at the event. Sure, kids don’t have the access to photograph Whoopi Goldberg in a milk bath, but buying their art will help them get to college and pursue their own dreams of becoming celebrity shutterbugs.

The Foundling in Focus, Mayson Gallery, 254 Broome Street; 7 p.m. Tickets and information can be found at http://donors.nyfoundling.org/.